"Oh, child of Chione, I command thee—put out that flame," James murmured.
The delicate speck of a snowflake swelled, unfolding into a great shard of frost. Instead of falling, it reversed its descent, rising into the sky and hovering in the air above.
"Well, well…" Seth's voice rang out, manic with delight. "An epiphany! You truly are one talented hero, aren't yer? Hahaha! Show me more!" His laughter grew wilder, his eyes deepening into a grotesque shade of crimson.
James snapped his hand, and the massive snowflake shattered into thousands of fragments. White crystals spun through the storm, catching the rain as they fell. Where each fragment touched, fire froze—transformed into jagged sculptures of ice. Flames solidified into twisted blades. The world around them dimmed as the temperature plummeted.
"Ohhh, what a dangerous garden you've grown here," Seth mocked, pressing a hand against one of the frozen spires. "Aren't ye afraid your damsel might get impaled?"
But the taunt ended in a sharp howl. "Damn it!"
Frost raced up Seth's arm, locking his hand against the wall of ice.
James saw his moment. He surged forward—blurred, not as fast as Seth but far too swift for ordinary eyes to follow.
Splat! Crack!
The clash shook the frozen garden. James's blade missed Seth's torso, but his strike found flesh all the same. The reaper shrieked as his hand was severed clean. Blood burst against the ice, staining it crimson, the frozen garden now blooming with crimson flowers.
"Ohhh… It would seem you got me," Seth said lightly, staring down at the stump where his hand had once been.
"You're quite calm for someone who just lost a limb," James replied, flicking his blade so the blood scattered across the frozen ground.
"Hahahaha…" Seth's laugh rasped, sharp as broken glass. "You didn't take it—I gave it away."
From the raw wound, black sludge began bubbling, writhing like molten tar. Before James's eyes, the ooze thickened, twisted, and hardened into bone, muscle, and flesh. In seconds, a new limb unfurled—pale, veined, and wrong.
"So… you're a chimera too," James muttered, turning slightly, blade raised as he gauged Seth's next move.
"Chimera?" Seth's voice cracked with fury, his grin collapsing into a snarl. "Don't you dare compare me to those inferior beasts. I am no failed experiment spat out by Trismegistus!"
Crack!
Lightning split the sky, striking a nearby tree and sending it crashing to the earth. Shadows danced across Seth's crimson eyes as his rage twisted into something more monstrous.
"So that is the maker of the Chimera," James thought, steadying himself as his grip tightened on the blade.
Woof! Woof!
The deep howls of Wolflin echoed from the distance. Their horned silhouettes cutting through the smoke—wolf-like beasts with antlers branching like trees, the trusted hounds of lawkeepers, famed for their unmatched sense of tracking.
The sound stilled the battleground for a breath.
"Too bad…" Seth sighed, his grin curling back into composure. "I wanted to play with you a little longer."
He tilted his head, eyes glinting as another flash of lightning split the sky. "But I know you'll come looking for me."
In less than the beat of a heart, his arm shifted—bone cracking, flesh warping—into a gleaming blade. The strike was swift and merciless.
Slice!
Ember's head fell, severed before James could move.
Her body collapsed as a jet of blood shot out from her neck like an active spring.
"No—!" James's roar shook with rage, his voice cracking against the storm.
Seth's laughter thundered through the air, jagged and mocking. "Hahahaha! Come find me, 'hero.' Or should I say failed hero? You couldn't even save one person. Did you know… she loved you?"
"I will kill you," James roared, the sound tearing through the clearing and flattening the air around him.
He slashed at the air, a clean, furious arc, his blade too far to even reach Seth.
Seth blinked once, disbelief flashing over his face. "What… have you gone mad with grief?" he sneered, voice laced with cruel disappointment.
Then he froze. The man's hand flew to his chest—where a ragged gash now ran from shoulder to torso. Blood spilled hot and bright against his coat.
For a heartbeat neither moved. Then—flash.
The wound flared with a violent blue fire. Seth's eyes widened as he staggered, still trying to comprehend what had struck him. Before he could recover, James moved again, faster than a thought.
The next moment, Seth's head rolled from his shoulders, thudding onto the scorched earth. Blood spattered the frozen blades of ice; the reaper's grin was still visible, a grotesque mockery, and though his head was off, he still laughed.
"Hahaha—so you were this powerful," a voice spat, split and distant. It was Seth, though his head was severed, but he could still talk. "But still—you failed to save her."
"Hey, you there—what are you doing?" A voice rang out from behind James.He tilted his head back slowly, his eyes hollow, catching sight of five men standing with their Sigs drawn and ready.
"Look at this," one of them muttered, pointing at the mangled bodies scattered around James."You killed them!" Another roared.
James did not answer. He did not move. His gaze stayed fixed, cold and unblinking, as though the world itself had become meaningless.
"Get him!" their leader barked.
Four metal braces shot forward, whistling through the air before clamping hard around James's wrists and ankles.
Clang!
The sharp ring of steel echoed as his body gave way.He collapsed to the ground, motionless, yet still radiating an aura of bloodlust.
"Damn it…I overused my Sar," James thought as darkness crept over his vision. His body went limp, and he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"Sergeant, look over here," one of the men called, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. "There's a girl tied to that tree… Her head… it's been cut. And to think—one man managed to kill thirty people and still a helpless woman… truly a monster. He should never see the light of day again."
"These poor people, I am sure they tried saving her," he spoke, shaking his head.
The sergeant grunted. "Shut that mutt up."
"Sir, look at this," another man called, pointing into the shadows. Crawling from into the forest was a black slug, thick and glistening, making its way through the underbrush with a slow, weak persistence.